


in her arms, a fortress

by cyberglow



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Awkward Phasma, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Fluff without Plot, Gen, Pre-Star Wars: The Force Awakens, Reader-Insert, gender neutral reader, this tracks like one of those 'i was sold to one direction' fics don't come for me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-28
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-19 11:28:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29749833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cyberglow/pseuds/cyberglow
Summary: A member of the Senate wants to strengthen his alliance with the First Order without arousing suspicion. One of his underlings is stationed on a planet relatively close to First Order territory, so he uses them as an offering to his new allies - this underling happens to be you.Now, you've been appointed as a personal servant of Phasma's, much to the discomfort of the captain. She's not used to this unnecessary luxury and you want to open her up to the possibilities. So, she takes a nap. Honestly, it goes better than you would expect.
Relationships: Phasma (Star Wars)/Reader, Phasma (Star Wars)/You
Kudos: 5





	in her arms, a fortress

**Author's Note:**

> wrote the bulk of this way back in 2015 when TFA first came out and I saw Gwendoline Christie in all that chrome. Incredibly self-indulgent, suitable for any gender of reader, and no plot to be found.

You watch as Phasma strides past you at the mess hall table without a second glance, which is typical. After a few minutes you get a brief message telling you to come to her quarters, which is less typical. She likes to keep to herself, rarely requesting your assistance if you’re not already present in her room, despite the fact that taking care of her every whim is your job description. 

In the past few weeks since you arrived, you’ve learned that understanding Phasma’s sleep schedule is a near impossible feat. She sleeps in short 3 hour bursts whenever the opportunity arises, and is constantly on call.

This being said, you have figured out she likes to take power naps after particularly exhausting tasks like razing a village to the ground or talking to Kylo Ren for more than 30 seconds. 

Hence, yet another moral conflict arises. It’s not unusual in your current setup. You like to generally hope that there’s a reduction in Phasma’s lethal output. On the other hand, you also really enjoy the faces she makes as she’s clearing the fog of sleep from her mind. Her nose scrunch is cute.

When you arrive at Phasma’s quarters, she has the suit on but the helmet off, a rare sight for you. It’s usually either full suit, what passes for pajamas to her, or her changing into one of these. 

“You called for me, Captain?” You bow after you enter the room, holding a pose of polite deference until she responds. 

“...Yes.” She’s very obviously struggling to say something. As for what, you have no clue. Your mind races.

“It would be my pleasure to assist you in some way, if need be.” You bite the inside of your cheek to keep yourself from getting too excited.

“It’s really nothing; I should never have wasted this much time thinking about it....” Phasma starts to pace a little as she says this.

“Captain, if I am allowed to speak, I may remind you that I am here for anything, no matter how small or odd the request might be.” You sigh internally. It’s been a struggle getting Phasma to realize it’s okay to want something she doesn’t necessarily _need_ without overstepping your subordinate role _._

“Hmm,” Phasma pauses for a moment, seeming to consider what you said. “You’re right.” She sits down on her bed and starts methodically taking off the armor, revealing the full-length body glove underneath. 

“Yes?” You try to temper your excitement at the promise of something _new_. As much as you’ve gotten to begrudgingly care for the Captain, primarily being with her by standing guard while she sleeps & watching a rivulet of drool slowly creep from her mouth gets very old very fast.

Phasma clears her throat. “Well, I’ve had difficulty falling asleep recently.”

You stare expectantly. She looks away, awkwardly coughing.

“And, anyway, I’ve read a few promising studies on improving performance; one of them mentioned that in high stress situations…well.” Phasma maintains a steady gaze at the wall and not at you, cradling her shoulder in a oft-repeated stretch. 

“Yes?” Holy shit, you should’ve been a dentist, seeing how much this feels like pulling teeth.

She switches to the other arm. “It seems.. physical contact can cause an individual to feel more comfortable and maximise sleep time.”

You can’t keep your eyebrows from shooting up. “Does this mean you want me to… be that physical contact for you, Captain?” 

“Yes.” Phasma has her body glove partially unzipped now, revealing the faint curve of her collarbone. 

Your face can’t decide what expression to wear and you decide neutral, gaze averted is best. “Ah- alright. Yes, of course, I can do that.” 

“You can sit here while I change.” Phasma points at the middle of the bed. She arranges her armor in a neat pile on the small desk next to her bed, most likely so she can change back into it as soon as she wakes up. Phasma grabs a neatly folded pile of bland, Starkiller base-issued clothing and with her back to you, begins changing into them.

You neatly turn down the covers and take a seat on her bed, crossing your legs, taking a few calming breaths, and resolutely shutting your eyes. You need to remember you are in a lower-ranking position and are here to _serve,_ not satisfy your own desires. If the captain wants you to give her a clinically-approved cuddle to fall asleep, you'll give her a damn good clinical cuddle.

Only a minute or two passes before she finishes changing and turns around. She sits awkwardly on the side of the bed, obviously not used to this. “Well, I’m… going to rest now.” 

You scoot over to make room for her. She slips underneath the covers, lying on her back. 

“Um. Sorry, but would it be best for me to be the little spoon or...?” You ask, not wanting to do anything without her permission but also needing to not lie side by side with her arm wedged up against yours until you eventually fell asleep because that would be weird _._ Well. Weird _er_.

“What does an eating utensil have to do with our current situation?” The question confuses you for a moment until you realize that Phasma genuinely does not know what spooning is.

“Oh, sorry, that’s probably… regional terminology, I should have thought of that before I spoke.” Holy shit, you think to yourself, she is _really_ lonely. “What I meant was- would you prefer to, uh, lie facing my back or vice versa?” 

A few seconds pass before Phasma says, “Seeing as I’m of superior height, my body being on the outside seems to be the most efficient way to do this.” You sigh silently in relief; now this is something you're experienced in.

You lie on your side and nuzzle back into Phasma gently, guiding her free arm around your waist. “Are you comfortable, Captain?”

“Yes, thank you for the concern.” And after a few moments, Phasma does seem to genuinely be more relaxed, her arm loosely around you and her breath ghosting against the top of your head. 

Her legs knock up against yours, and you revel in the press of her thighs against you. This was definitely worth the wait. 

Her breathing slows down after a while and you feel yourself starting to relax into her as the pounding of her heart against your back turns into a slow thud.

She makes you feel safe, protected from the harsh reality of the outside world by her well-muscled arm resting across your waist and the solid bulk of her body pressed up against you. 

Your body eventually gets the memo, and you feel yourself start to drift off into unconsciousness.


End file.
